


A Bullshit Tale, Part the Second; The Blight: Envy

by dragonmactir



Series: A Bullshit Tale [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Demon-Romancing, F/M, Mass Confusion, Too many characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-18 02:25:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11281815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonmactir/pseuds/dragonmactir
Summary: In this part, Loghain has been dead since the Landsmeet, and the Envy demon has taken his place.  Trying to rebuild confidence in Loghain, it has been laying low, playing the role carefully, but with the killing of the blood mages that bound it, it is free to wreak whatever havoc it wills.  Will Warden Cousland's romantic obsession with Loghain go too far before she discovers the truth?  And how much damage will an untethered Envy demon cause when it decides to break loose?PART TWO and PART THREE run concurrently.





	1. Chapter 1

Cauthrien found him in the stables. He seemed to disappear at will -- not terribly out of character, he’d always been remarkably stealthy for a big man.  She saluted and stood at attention until he acknowledged her.

 

He saddled his horse and secured the girths, then turned to greet her. “Yes, Commander?” he said.

 

“I think I should come with you, Ser,” she said.

 

He gestured to the stables. “Gear up and get your horse, Commander.”

 

She was surprised by his easy acceptance. “R-really?  Well, thank you, Ser.”

 

“Just don’t take long, my dear -- we’ll be leaving as soon as the rest of the hooligans get off their asses and get here.”

 

She saluted again. “I’ll be right back, Ser,” she said, and was off like a shot.

 

The others from the party began to arrive: the Warden, the elves, Hawke and Bethany, Aveline. Cauthrien arrived moments later, a pack on her back next to her sword.  She went to the stall where her own horse, a Green Dales Feral named Dalish, was stabled, and saddled him up.  When everyone was mounted, they rode out into the city for the city gates leading to the Pilgrim’s Path between Denerim and Amaranthine, the route on which the Warden had left her people.  The Warden stopped them not long before sunset.

 

“The camp is just off here, if they’re still there,” she said. “Just let me talk to them first, eh?  Alistair won’t be happy about… well, he won’t like it, is all.”

 

“Waste of time,” Loghain said. “These horses need rest, and our people need to bed down for the night.  I don’t give a damn what Alistair doesn’t like.  We all go, we don’t stand here and wait for approval that won’t come.”

 

“I don’t give a damn what Alistair doesn’t like, either,” the Warden said. “Just let me have a chance to get him prepared for the idea, all right?  I want as little stress and as few broken bones as possible.”

 

Loghain nodded toward the bushes off to the right of the road. “Its through here, right?  I can smell the campfire.”  And without another word, he pushed his way through.

 

“Oh, shit. There’s going to be blood.  Cauthrien, Aveline?  If you could help me, please?  I think I’m going to need a lot of brute strength to tear these two off each other.”  And the Warden went scrambling after Loghain.

 

Alistair was just leaping to his feet. _“You,”_ he said, his words loaded with venom.

 

“My reputation precedes me, I see,” Loghain said.

 

“What did you do to Elilia?” Alistair said.

 

“Nothing.”

 

 _“Bull,”_ Alistair said, and threw himself at Loghain.  Loghain grappled him and threw him to the ground, drew his sword, and put in the center of the young man’s chest, ready to plunge it into his heart.  The Warden threw herself at him and knocked the blade out of his hand.

 

“You are _not_ killing Alistair,” she said, with a severe look.  “He’s the only other warden there is in the entire nation, and despite how whiny he can be, he _remains_ a friend of mine.  You both have to calm down.”

 

“He tried to kill me!” Alistair said, scooting backwards on the ground.

 

“You attacked him!” the Warden said.

 

“He killed our King!”

 

“That was a demon!”

 

“Why did you bring him here?”

 

“We need help! His experience and skill will take us far!  And Her Majesty asked it of him.  Besides, he brought us further assistance.  Warriors, rogues -- even mages.  Our strength grows.”

 

“We don’t need a bloody King-killer.”

 

“Just sit down, Alistair,” the Warden said. “He’s here and he’s going to help us.  You’d better accept it.”

 

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me,” Alistair said, but he sat down.

 

The Warden introduced the rest of her followers. “This is Leliana, and this is Sten, and that over there at her own campfire is Morrigan.  She’s not very sociable.  Everybody play nice.  I’ll go get the others.”

 

Sten slowly approached Loghain. His walk turned into a charge on the last few steps.  Loghain sidestepped him and grabbed his arm, twisted, and tripped him with an outstretched leg.  Sten fell, but was on his feet in a heartbeat.  They grappled, and Cauthrien and Aveline tried to break them apart, but Aveline was flung clear by the qunari’s left arm and Cauthrien couldn’t find a good spot to grab hold.  Finally Loghain, eyes glowing brilliantly, managed to grapple Sten to his ass in the dirt and get both hands around his thick neck.

 

“Maker’s sake, is this going to happen every time I leave you alone? Stop trying to kill my companions, Loghain!” the Warden said as she came back into the clearing, followed by the others.

 

“When they stop attacking me, I’ll stop trying to kill them,” Loghain said, not lessening his grip on the qunari’s throat.

 

“This man is demon-touched,” Sten said, gasping and turning an interesting shade of greyish purple.

 

“That’s what _I’m_ saying,” Alistair said.

 

“Let him go, Loghain,” the Warden said. “Sten.  Leave him alone.”

 

“You cannot allow the demon-touched to live,” Sten said.

 

“I have given you an _order,_ Sten,” the Warden said.

 

Sten did not say anything for a long moment, and so Loghain did not let up his grip. Finally, Sten nodded.  Loghain let go, and Sten got up, rubbing his throat.  “You are not to be trusted,” he said, staring hard at Loghain.

 

“That’s a good maxim for damn near everyone,” Loghain said, staring back just as hard. His eyes were no longer glowing but they were so cold and pale that they might as well have been.

 

“Well, this is a wonderful start to our companionship,” the Warden said, raising her arms to her sides and bringing them down hard. “I wonder how many more times we’ll try to kill each other before the end?”


	2. Chapter Two

It was a quiet journey to Kinloch Hold, the Warden’s choice for their first destination.  No one wanted to speak to anyone else, lest they break the brittle peace of the silence.  Clear lines of loyalty were drawn, with the Warden’s people on Alistair’s side and Loghain’s people on his, and the Warden herself caught in the middle, trying to bring them all together.  Only Morrigan, perhaps predictably, seemed unaffected by the chaos, quite interested in Loghain himself, and refused to take a side at all.

 

They were still roughly two days out from Lake Calenhad when they were joined by a rider.  Half-panicked and angry, obviously he had been riding hard for quite some time.  It was Carver, sober now, and he had words for his sisters.

 

“How _dare_ you leave without me?” he said, shouting at the both of them.  “Do you know it felt to wake up and not know where you were?”

 

“It’s not our fault you drank yourself into four days of oblivion, Carver,” Hawke said.  “We tried to say goodbye to you before we left.  We would’ve even given you the chance to come with us, but you were seeing nothing but purple butterflies in fields of clover.”

 

“You left mother all alone in that big house to come shout at us?” Bethany said, angry in her own right.

 

“Hey, you’re the ones who left her,” Carver said.

 

“Because of course it’s _our_ duty to stay at home and take care of her.  Forever,” Hawke said.  “While _you_ go out and chase glory as a soldier and get shit-faced drunk at public revels we can’t go to because of our magic.”  Carver bridled, but clearly didn’t have a snappy comeback prepared for that.  “As long as you’re here, Brother, you might as well make yourself useful.  Come along with us.  I’m sure the Warden could always use another sword-arm.”

 

“I didn’t come here to work for the _Teyrn,”_ Carver said.

 

“But you rode one of his horses half to _death_ to get here,” Hawke said.  “So why don’t you tell us, then, why _did_ you come here, Carver?”

 

“I’ve come to take you home, where you belong.”

 

“Home,” Hawke said, nodding.  “Don’t you mean, ‘to the _Teyrn’s_ home?’  The home he so kindly allows us to _share_ with him, at no cost to us?”

 

“That’s how he drags you in to feeling like you owe him something,” Carver said heatedly.

 

“Carver, you will never understand, will you?” Hawke said.  “You are ‘normal,’ in the eyes of the rest of the world.  You have every opportunity you are given or can create for yourself to distinguish yourself amongst your peers.  Bethany and I are apostates.  We’re typically not allowed to distinguish ourselves.  This is our one big chance to prove that we’re worth something, so if you don’t want to be here, I suggest that you find a fresh horse and leave.  You shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

 

Petulantly, Carver tethered his exhausted horse with the others and began to set up his tent and bedding.  _“Hey,”_ Loghain said.  “Do you think we brought a stablehand with us?  See to your horse, first.  He needs a rubdown, grooming, a hoof-check, and he needs food and water most of all.”

 

“And I suppose you look after _your_ own horse?” Carver said.

 

“Every night and every morning,” the Warden said.  “And since _all_ these horses are his, we should all be nice enough to do the same, shouldn’t we?”

 

Carver grumbled, but he begrudgingly saw to his horse’s welfare before setting up his own space at the campsite.  “Hey,” he said, greeting Leliana with a wave and an unintentionally creepy grin.  Leliana gave him a sickly smile and a nod in return, then looked away quickly and shifted uncomfortably in place.

 

In due time they reached the shores of Lake Calenhad, and made camp.  “We’re too large a group to hit them up like this,” the Warden said.  “I propose myself, Warden Alistair, Teyrn Loghain, and Leliana take the boat across to the tower, and the rest of you stay here.  It shouldn’t take us too very long to negotiate the treaty, and then we’ll head down to Arl Eamon’s and find out what’s going on there and wrangle a promise of his men out of him, or whomever is dealing with the situation there.”

 

“Why the Bard?” Loghain asked.  “Why not take someone else?”

 

“Why, because of course, you need to keep an eye on her at all times,” the Warden said, with a winning smile.  “She’s Orlesian, correct?”

 

“Hmph.  You’re learning.”

 

“Besides, there may be locks that need picking.  Leliana is good at that.  You can keep a completely unnecessary eye on her, and she can pick locks for me.  Win-win.”

 

“I brought lock-pickers along, too, you know.”

 

“Yes, but I’m allowing for your paranoia.  We really don’t need more than one rogue for this particular operation.”

 

“Have I said one word against your Orlesian Bard this whole way?”

 

“No, but I’ve seen you giving her the _narrow eye,_ this whole way.  And now you’re calling her ‘the Orlesian Bard.’  Her _name_ is Leliana.”

 

“Perhaps, _Warden,_ but I typically call people by their occupation, if it suits them better than their name.”

 

Elilia waved her hands in front of her in negation of the entire conversation.  “All right, enough, enough.  You, me, Alistair, and Leliana will go to the tower.  Everyone else, stay here and stay chilly.  Literally, it’s kind of chilly today.  Maybe you can stay in the tavern today to keep warm, but it doesn’t look like there’s much room in there for all of you.  Settled?  Great, let’s get moving.”


	3. Chapter Three

Leaving the bulk of the party behind was a good idea for one major reason: the only way across to the tower was by boat, and the _boat_ could only carry about four passengers.  It would’ve taken longer to get the rest of them across than it would to negotiate the treaty.  The Warden chose the best people for the job, that much was certain; her fellow Warden for presence, Loghain for political power.  Leliana’s presence was rather superfluous but the Warden seemed to have a thing about _looting_ wherever she went, and liked to keep a talented thief close at hand.  What she thought she would be able to steal out from under the templars was anyone’s guess.

 

The boat reached the tower and they filed inside to be greeted by the Knight-Commander, a grey-haired veteran named Greagior that Loghain had some prior experience with.  Instead of helping, however, this was likely to hurt, as the men had a rather adversarial relationship -- hardly surprising, as Loghain had adversarial relationships with most people with whom he was acquainted.  But he stood in the background and said nothing while the Warden went about her business.

 

“Yes? What do you want?” Greagior said, chin up and nose in the air.

 

“I am the Grey Warden Elilia.  This is my comrade, the Grey Warden Alistair.  We are here to negotiate a treaty with your mages, so that they will fight the Blight with us,” Elilia said, in the same imperious air that the Knight-Commander used.

 

Greagior blinked twice, then gave the party another look and spotted Loghain at the back, who nodded with false politeness.  He sighed.  “I grow tired of the Wardens and their constant need for mages and recruits and whatever-have-you to throw at the darkspawn…” he began, “but it is their right.  Go and speak to First Enchanter Irving.  He has the power to give you what you seek.”

 

“Where is First Enchanter Irving?”

 

“More than likely in his office, last room on the second floor, although I believe I had heard something about a meeting of the Senior Enchanters.  If such is the case, you’ll probably find him with them in the Harrowing Chamber, on the top floor.”

 

“And how many sets of stairs is it to the top floor?” the Warden asked.

 

“Aw, don’t be that way, Warden,” Loghain said.  “Think of it as a training exercise.”  He proceeded through the doors into the first hall of the Apprentice Quarters.  The Warden and the others hurried to follow.

 

It was surprisingly quiet in the tower.  There were mages there, going about their business, young and apparently quite shy, with their heads down, taking nervous glances at the warriors passing through their territory.  “Can I just say I really don’t want to be here?” Alistair said, whispering near Elilia’s ear.  “Mages don’t like me.  Mages don’t like templars of any flavor, even templars who didn’t finish templar school.”

 

“Oh, buck up, Al,” Elilia said, and clapped him on the back.  “They’re just apprentices.”

 

“There are probably real mages amongst them.  And even apprentices are dangerous, especially in _large groups,_ Eli.”

 

“I’ll stop calling you Al the moment you stop calling me Eli,” the Warden singsonged, and tousled the upflip of his hair.  He grumbled and did his best to right it again.

 

They headed up the stairs at the end of the circular hall into the Mage Quarters.  Halfway through they met up with a weary-looking white-haired woman in red Senior Enchanter robes.  “Warden!” she said, surprised.

 

“Wynne!” Elilia said, drawing upon her perfect memory for faces and names.  “You made it out of Ostagar!  That’s a relief!”

 

“As did you!  It is good to see you, my dear, but what are you doing here?” Wynne asked.

 

“Looking for help against the Blight.  I have a treaty the Circle signed Ages ago with the Grey Wardens, but I must speak to First Enchanter Irving about whether or not the mages can honor it,” the Warden said.

 

“Oh!  Irving is currently in a meeting with the Senior Enchanters, called by Senior Enchanter Uldred,” Wynne said.  “I was just on my way there now.  I should have been there before this, but I was feeling quite tired and procrastinated the climb up all those flights of stairs.  I don’t know what the meeting could possibly be about, but whatever it could be, I should think this takes precedence.  Come -- I will take you there.”

 

“Oh, thank you so much!” Elilia said, smiling ear to ear.  “Let me introduce you to my companions.  This my fellow Warden Alistair, my friend Leliana, and this is Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir of Gwaren.”

 

Wynne smiled and nodded at everyone, but her smile for Loghain was a bit strained.  “I have… had the honor of meeting his Lordship before,” she said, and turned away fairly quickly.

 

“Oo, there’s a story there,” Elilia said.

 

“Not really,” Loghain said.  “She healed me after my fight with the demon at the Landsmeet.  If I had to hazard a guess, either she’s not sure I’m _not_ the demon, or she hasn’t entirely given up on blaming me for what happened at Ostagar.  Even if she has, she has just enough niggling doubt left over to be very uncomfortable in my presence.”

 

Wynne’s shoulders stiffened, but she relaxed and said nothing about it.  “Shall we continue?  It a long way to the top of the tower, my friends.”

 

As they headed up the inside of the towering edifice, Wynne told them of the history of the place, pointed out sites of minor interest, and introduced them to people she deemed to be of sufficient importance.  It slowed their progress significantly, and clearly angered Loghain, but the Warden didn’t seem to care, and so the tour continued as they walked.  It seemed to give Wynne a chance to rest as they made their way up the stairs.

 

As they reached the higher levels of the tower, however, things began to look strange.  It was too quiet.  No mages in the halls.  No templars, either.  “Would they all be at this meeting?” the Warden asked.

 

Wynne looked worried.  “I shouldn’t think so.  Senior Enchanters are typically allowed to meet without much in the way of templar supervision, and most of the mages in the tower are _not_ Senior Enchanters.  There should be _plenty_ of mages and _plenty_ of templars milling about, I should think.”  Her face cleared.  “Perhaps I worry for nothing.  Perhaps they were all simply _invited_ to the meeting.”

 

“Yeah,” the Warden said, not sounding reassured at all, “that could be the case.”

 

It wasn’t long after that they encountered the first demon, a smallish creature of rage.  “I’m beginning to think we should have brought the whole group along after all…” Alistair said in an ominous tone, after it was dispatched.

 

“I’m starting to agree with you,” the Warden said, “but we’ll make it through, no matter what.  We’re the Wardens, after all, and we have Loghain with us, along with a Senior Enchanter.”

 

“I wish I had your confidence, Eli,” Alistair said.

 

“As do I, my dear,” Wynne said.  “After all, I am rather… elderly.”

 

“Where are these demons coming from?” the Warden asked after hacking her way through a second.

 

“Well, either the Veil is torn, or they’re being summoned,” Wynne said.

 

“Blood magic?” the Warden said.

 

“Not necessarily,” Wynne said.  “It often requires blood magic to bind a demon to obedience, but summoning may be done with a simple summoning circle.  That requires no blood at all.”

 

“What do we do if we _are_ facing blood magic?” the Warden asked.

 

“Run in terror?” Alistair suggested.  The Warden shot him a dirty look.

 

“There is a way to combat the hold of blood magic on your mind,” Wynne said.  “It is called ‘The Litany of Adralla,’ and we have a copy in our stockroom downstairs.  Perhaps we should return there and retrieve it before pressing onward.”

 

 _“More stairs,”_ the Warden growled in a fair impersonation of Loghain.

 

“I will retrieve it,” Leliana said.  “I shall grab it and return before you know that I have gone.”  She handed off her quite-full pack to the Warden.  She had spent the entire trip slipping off quietly into the rooms as they passed by, picking locks and stealing unguarded trinkets for Her Ladyship the Warden, more stealthy and somehow with fewer morals than a black cat.  _Strange_ for a Chantry Sister.  She ran off the way they had come and disappeared.

 

She was back in fairly little time with the ancient scroll, and they proceeded on, for a time unhampered by demon attacks, until they came to the second-to-last room before the final climb.  There they were attacked by two lesser rage demons, a much larger incarnation of rage, and _two_ abominations, ghastly creatures that had once been human.  It was a hard-won battle and no one felt any particular glory seeing their enemies fall, knowing that the once-human abominations had no particular say in what they did, perhaps not even in what they had become.

 

As they entered the next room, a young templar burst out of the door to the Harrowing Chamber above the stairs.  He tried to run, but he was captured in a paralyzing flash of brilliant red light, sparking like lightning.  He screamed horribly and tumbled down the stairs to the floor at their feet.  Wynne gasped in shock and cast a counter-spell, releasing the young man from his cage before it could fully form around him.

 

“Ser Cullen?  Ser Cullen!  Are you all right?” she asked, as she knelt carefully at his side.

 

“I… I think so,” he said.  “But the others… oh, the others!  They’re killing them all!  I tried to run for help,” the young man said.

 

“Who is doing this?” Wynne said.

 

The young man swallowed hard.  _“Uldred._ He’s not alone.  He has many with him.  He has the First Enchanter and the Senior Enchanters hostage.  He’s turning them… into abominations if they won’t join him!”

 

 _“Blast and damnation!”_ Loghain swore, and fairly leapt all six stairs to burst through the door to the chamber above.

 

“We’d better get after him,” the Warden said, and ran up the stairs, not waiting to see if anyone else would follow her, either.

 

“Ah, Loghain.  How nice to see you again,” Senior Enchanter Uldred, he of the bald head and the slippery smile, said as the Warden skidded to a halt on the smooth marble floor.  “Are you here to discuss our agreement?  As you can see, I am quite ready to accommodate you.”

 

 _“This_ was not our agreement, you addle-pated asshole,” Loghain said.  “You were to _convince_ the First Enchanter to send _all his mages_ to _fight_ for us, not _kill all the mages_.  Somewhere you got your _lines_ crossed.”

 

“And _you_ were in exchange to _free_ we mages,” Ulrich said.  “I got tired of waiting, and decided to take action myself.”

 

Uldred began to… change.  Soon, he was not Uldred any longer.  The party looked on in horror as he metamorphosed into a massive demon of Pride.

 

“Yeah, I thought so,” Loghain said, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.  “Prepare for a battle; it doesn’t get much tougher than Pride.”

 

“Don’t forget the Litany,” Wynne said, almost whispering.  “It may mean the difference between victory and defeat.”

 

The Pride demon roared and swiped out a massive hand, catching Wynne with a body blow that sent her flying into the wall.  She crumpled, either knocked out or dead, and the Warden let out a battle cry and dove in with her greatsword in an attack that was not precisely well-advised but certainly impressive.  Loghain followed after, a human blitzkrieg, and Alistair was more cautious but did not mean to be outdone.  Leliana was a tiny hurricane with her dual daggers, but when she found them unsuitable against the demon’s thick hide, swapped them for her bow and rained down chaos from a distance.

 

Everyone was fighting too hard to notice the white light that suffused Wynne’s body just before she climbed back to her feet, but everyone heard the elder mage call out, _“He’s doing something to the mages!  Use the Litany!”_ when the demon paused to cast some sort of spell over his hostages.  Leliana recited a passage from the scroll she still carried, and the spell was interrupted.

 

With Wynne’s help, the Pride demon fell, and they cleaned up the leftover abominations.  There were still some templars left alive in the chamber, and most of the mages.  No telling how many of them had been Uldred’s people, however, as they were all claiming innocence now.  When the templars realized this, they rallied themselves and seized as many of the younger mages as they could.

 

“Whoa, hey!” the Warden said, with her hands held out.  “No need for further unpleasantness here, is there?”

 

“These mages may be maleficarum,” the highest-ranking templar said.  “We cannot allow them to live.”

 

“Ser Hadley, _think_ about what you are saying,” Wynne said.

 

“There is no choice, Senior Enchanter.  Most of these younger mages were here at the behest of Senior Enchanter Uldred.  They were his people, here to help him subdue the First Enchanter and the other Senior Enchanters.”

 

“But… did you _see_ that they used blood magic?” Wynne asked, desperation in her voice.  “Seeking freedom isn’t automatically being a maleficar.”

 

“Can you trust _any_ of them anymore, after they’ve been under the will of an abomination like Uldred?” Loghain said.

 

“So just kill them because they _might_ be blood mages?  Is that really the _right_ thing to do in this situation?” the Warden said.

 

“At the least they are guilty of sedition.  They must be punished,” Ser Hadley said.

 

“Leave that decision up to your superiors, Ser Hadley,” First Enchanter Irving said, coming up to them limping with his hand on his hip in pain.  “Oh, I am not meant to sit on the floor for any length of time.”

 

“Irving!  I am so glad to see you well!” Wynne said.

 

“Not so glad as I am to see you, Wynne.  I do not believe any of us would have made it out of here alive were it not for your timely arrival,” the First Enchanter said.

 

“I had help,” she said.  “I never would have been able to do it if these good people hadn’t been here.”

 

“So I see.  And what brought you here, friends?”

 

“Good timing, or perhaps the beneficence of the Maker,” the Warden said.  “My friend Alistair here and I are Grey Wardens.  We came here seeking the assistance of the Circle per the ancient treaty you once signed with our Order and found that we were a little more needed instead.”

 

“Well, we thank you greatly for your timely intervention,” the First Enchanter said.  “Now, if you could please help me down the stairs, that would be greatly appreciated, as well.  Maker curse the fool who decided to house the Circle in a tower.”

 

It took longer to get the old man down the tower than it took to climb the tower in the first place, but eventually they made it back to the front doors to come face-to-face with Knight-Commander Greagior once more.  When the old templar saw the mages held in custody by the younger soldiers he became unsettled instantly.

 

“What happened?  What’s going on here?”

 

“Be calm, Greagior,” the First Enchanter said.  “The matter has been taken care of.”

 

“Not entirely, Commander,” Ser Hadley said.  “These mages are guilty of sedition, Ser, under the leadership of Senior Enchanter Uldred.  They may even be maleficarum.”

 

“We have no proof of that,” the First Enchanter said severely.

 

“I -- tell me what happened!” Greagior demanded.

 

“Senior Enchanter Uldred led these mages in a revolt against the Circle,” Hadley said.  “They held the Senior Enchanters and we templars hostage and intended to take over completely in order to gain their freedom.  They helped Uldred _kill_ templars and turn Senior Enchanters into _abominations.”_

 

Greagior looked to the First Enchanter for confirmation.  Irving hung his head.  “This… is true, Greagior,” the First Enchanter said in a quiet voice.

 

Greagior threw his hand up in a sweeping gesture.  “Take them to the dungeon and lock them away!  We will deal with them later!”

 

The First Enchanter remained where he stood for a moment longer, head down, but then he drew himself up and turned to the Warden.  “You came here seeking assistance, did you not?  What can the Circle do for the Wardens?”

 

“We were hoping you could come and fight the darkspawn with us, First Enchanter, but perhaps now is not the proper time,” the Warden said.

 

“If not now, there may not be a time,” the First Enchanter said.  “Just as the treaty speaks of, you shall have our full strength.”

 

“Thank you, First Enchanter,” the Warden said, and shook hands with him.

 

Wynne looked at the First Enchanter.  “Irving, I seek leave to go with these people on their journey,” she said.

 

“Wynne, you are needed here,” the First Enchanter said in clear surprise.

 

“No I’m not.  The Circle has you.  These people are honorable and good.  I may be able to help them on their travels.”

 

“We would be honored to have you, Enchanter Wynne,” the Warden said.

 

“Ah, you were never one to stay put when there was adventure to be had elsewhere,” the First Enchanter said, chuckling.

 

“Why should I stay, when I may be needed elsewhere?” Wynne said.

 

“Very well, then, go, with my blessings.”  The First Enchanter turned back to Greagior.  “We shall require all the mages from out of the dungeons when it is time for us to march against the darkspawn, Greagior.  That means Seanna and Anders, as well.”

 

Greagior started sputtering.  “What?  No!  Absolutely not!  A blood-mage’s confederate and an escape artist on the loose?  Never!  And just what makes you think we’re going to let _any_ of the gaoled mages out of the dungeons in the first place, Irving?”

 

“Because the treaty we signed calls for _all_ our mages, Greagior, not just those who aren’t being punished,” the First Enchanter said.

 

“Who are Seanna and Anders?” the Warden asked, interested.

 

“Oh, two of our brightest young pupils,” the First Enchanter said.  “Seanna, poor soul, had the quickest and cleanest Harrowing of any young mage I’ve ever seen, but she was tricked by a friend who turned out to be a blood mage and now she pays an unjust price.  Anders, well he’s prone to making escapes -- he just wants his freedom, he’d never _dream_ of hurting anyone -- but he’s also one of our _finest_ young mages.”

 

“You have a strange definition of _fine,_ Irving,” Greagior muttered.

 

Loghain came up behind the Warden and poked her roughly in the back.  “Right of Conscription,” he said in a low whisper.

 

“What?” the Warden said over her shoulder.

 

“Right of Conscription, Warden-Commander Elilia,” he whispered back.  “First Enchanter Irving is giving you an opportunity.  Don’t miss it.”

 

“But I don’t know how to make new wardens,” she said urgently.

 

“They don’t know that, and what matter?  That may change later on, anyway.”

 

She turned to face forward and spoke up brightly.  “I invoke the Right of Conscription!”


	4. Chapter Four

“Milady Morrigan seems quite absorbed in the book your Chantry thief found for her in the tower,” Loghain told the Warden.

 

“I figured she’d enjoy it.  Her mother apparently wrote it.”

 

“Might be dangerous, you know.”

 

“Lots of things are potentially dangerous.  Kittens, for instance.”

 

“I don’t think this is quite on the same level.”

 

“It’ll be fine.  Let’s get acquainted with our new partners.”

 

Seanna Suranna and the mage known currently only as Anders had kept to themselves for the journey away from the Circle tower, and when they camped Anders pulled an orange tabby cat out of his robes and started playing with it.  He called the animal “Mr. Wiggums” and they seemed to get on well together.  As they approached, however, the cat arched its back and hissed at them.

 

“Your pet doesn’t seem to like us,” the Warden said.

 

“I don’t what’s the matter with him,” Anders said, as he tried to calm the animal.  “Mr. Wiggums is usually friendly with everybody, isn’t he, Seanna?”

 

“He’s probably upset about the dogs,” Loghain said.  “He’ll calm down once he realizes they’re not interested in eating him.”

 

“Yes, I suppose that’s it.”

 

“Funny, though,” the Warden said, sitting down a safe distance away, “he really doesn’t seem all that interested in the dogs.  He seems to be snarling at _you,_ Loghain.”

 

“Who knows what mysteries lie within the minds of felines?” Loghain said.  “One loves only one person alone, the other loves no one at all, still another loves everybody equally but chooses one random person as an enemy for no reason whatsoever.  They’re very like women in that regard.”

 

“The dogs haven’t taken to you, yet, either.  That’s strange.  Your daughter told me that you were drawn to animals, and vice versa.”

 

He shrugged.  “These aren’t my animals.”

 

“Your horse is your animal,” Cauthrien said, coming up from the main camp.  “I’ve noticed Stew-Bone has been unusually restive since Denerim.  You and that horse have been through the Void and back together.  I don’t understand this, he’s never been so unsettled before.”

 

“He probably smells the darkspawn.  Animals have very powerful senses, far stronger than those of humans, and I know _I_ haven’t been able to get the stink of the beasts out of my nose since Ostagar.”

 

“Oh.  Yes, I suppose that would make any animal nervous, even one as seasoned as Stew.”

 

“Ha!  Stew! Seasoned!” Anders said.  No one laughed, and Cauthrien just stared at him.  He subsided into the collar of his robes like a turtle into its shell.

 

Loghain reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a rind of cheese.  He tossed it to the angry cat.  “You may not like me, beast, but I’d bet you’ll eat my food,” he said.  Mr. Wiggums hissed and waved a threatening set of claws, but after a moment snatched up the rind and gnawed it down, still growling low in its throat.  Loghain’s eyes flashed brilliant lyrium blue light but subsided immediately.  The cat stopped growling and relaxed.  It finished its cheese treat and went to snuggle with Anders.

 

“How did you come to have Mr. Wiggums, Anders?” the Warden asked.  “I thought the Circle didn’t allow pets.”

 

“They don’t, but Mr. Wiggums was a Tower mouser.  I got to know him while in the dungeons.  Best friend I ever had.  I couldn’t leave him behind.”

 

“The mouse population at the Circle just underwent a massive boom,” Alistair said as he walked by.

 

“You know we’ll be living rough for a long while.  A cat’s not really an out-on-the-road kind of animal,” the Warden said.  “How are you going to keep him?”

 

“He can ride in my pack,” Anders said.  “He’ll stay with me, he loves me.”

 

“When are you going to make us Wardens?” the little red-headed elf mage Seanna said quietly, the first thing she’d said at all.  “There has to be more to it than just the Right of Conscription.”

 

“Well, actually, I can’t make you Wardens.  You’re free and clear.  Alistair and me, we don’t know the recipe for the Joining potion, so… no more real Ferelden Wardens.  Just… friends.  I didn’t like the idea of a couple of fine young mages rotting in prison for no good reason.  So I used the only power I had to set you free.  It’s not exactly a good thing, we’re on a dangerous mission, but the more of us there are, the less dangerous it becomes.  We can keep you safe from the templars, at least.”

 

“Well.  Thank you.  Truly,” Anders said.

 

“Don’t thank me.  It was Loghain’s idea.  I honestly didn’t know I had the power of conscription.  I’ve only been a Warden for a very short while,” the Warden said.

 

“Loghain, eh?  That’s a name you don’t hear very often,” Anders said.  “I bet you get confused for that Hero guy all the time, right?”

 

Loghain gave him a long, cold look.  “Yes, actually, I am,” he said.

 

“Anders, Loghain _is_ that ‘Hero’ guy,” the Warden said.

 

“Oh.  Ah.  Cool.  That’s really, really, really neat.”  Anders scratched at the back of his neck and retreated into his robes like a turtle again.

 

“Where are we off to, now?” Cauthrien asked.

 

“Well, Redcliffe is nearby, isn’t it?” the Warden said.  “I expect we should go talk to Arl Eamon.  Alistair said he had a bit of an in with him.”

 

“That shouldn’t take too long, then.  Where to from there?” Cauthrien asked.

 

“Oh, I don’t know.  Orzammar, I think.  I’ve always wanted to see the Dwarven Kingdom.”

 

“Shouldn’t we perhaps find the Dalish first?  They’re more likely to be somewhere nearby.”

 

“But hard to find, most likely.  I thought we’d save them for last.”

 

Cauthrien placed a hand on Loghain’s shoulder.  “Ser,” she whispered.  “Don’t you think you should… _do_ something about this?  This expedition is a bit disorganized, don’t you think?”

 

“I’m here to advise, my dear, not to command.  And I don’t think the Warden is doing all that badly.  It would be difficult to find a Dalish clan from here.”

 

“You know where they stay, and you know how to track them.  Do you truly think you could not find them?” Cauthrien asked.

 

Loghain smiled.  “It’s the young Warden’s show, my dear.  I shouldn’t like to step on her toes.”

 

“But are we simply to wander aimlessly while the nation burns?”

 

“It’s hardly aimless, my dear.”

 

“When did you start ‘my dear’-ing me so much?”

 

“When did you start worrying so much?  Calm down, Cauthrien.  Things will be just fine.”

 

“Oh… of course, Ser.”  She moved away from him and quietly gestured to the Warden once she was out of his sight.  The Warden looked around uncertainly, then got up and came over to where she stood.

 

“What’s up, Commander?” she asked.

 

“I don’t quite know.  Something is very wrong with father -- I mean, the General.  He’s just not… himself.  The animals, the way he speaks to me, his… _state of calm._ The General is never disconcerted, but I cannot accuse him of ever being _calm_ about anything in this manner.”

 

“So… what is it you think?  Mind-control?  We took out the blood mages that had his blood.  You think there’s more?”

 

“I don’t know.  I’m just… very worried.  Perhaps I am simply reading too much into it.  I believe he’s setting some sort of test for you, and perhaps that explains everything except the animals, which could very well be the presence of darkspawn throughout the country, and I’m simply being very silly.”

 

“You still felt it worthwhile to speak of it to me,” the Warden said.

 

“I did.  I’ve never seen him like this, and I’ve seen him set many such tests of worth for many people, including myself.  This behavior of his is… just different enough to worry me.  It’s definitely the man I’ve always known, but… it’s just enough off that I wonder what’s wrong with him.  I think we should be cautious.  Something may be acting on him still.  Blood mages, perhaps.  If that is true, who knows what sort of control they may hold over him?  I trust that he is resistant, but blood mages hold great power.  They nearly destroyed him once already.  I cannot stand to see them succeed now.”

 

“Don’t worry, Ser Cauthrien.  We’ll keep a close watch on him.  I personally guarantee that.  I won’t let anything happen to him,” the Warden said, and clapped Cauthrien on the shoulder.  Cauthrien nodded and returned to the main campfire.

 

Thinking hard, the Warden wandered over to Morrigan’s campsite to check on her.  “How’s the book?” she said.

 

“Not what I expected,” Morrigan said.  “I had hoped it would be the secrets of my mother’s greater powers.  Instead… it reads more like a journal of my mother’s long years, and the secret of her immortality.”

 

“Well, that sounds useful.  Still, you look disturbed.”

 

“You could say that.  My mother isn’t a simple abomination as I once thought.  Documented here is the very way she remains eternal.  I have long heard stories the Chasind tell of my supposed sisters, other witches of the Wild, but never have I known them myself.  I now know why.  They are all _Flemeth!_ When she grows too old to live any longer, she takes over the body of her daughter.  This is what she has planned for me!  She waits until her daughter has grown to maximum magical power, and then takes over their body!  I cannot wait around to be worn like an old set of used clothing.”

 

“You’re sure of this?” the Warden said.

 

“It’s all written here in my mother’s own handwriting,” Morrigan said.

 

“So what are you going to do about it?” the Warden said.

 

“What can I do?  My mother is _far_ more powerful than I, and if I come anywhere near her, she’s likely to make her move on the spot.  I was rather hoping, however, that _you_ might do something for me.”

 

“Oh?  What can I do?”

 

“Take your best meatheads and go kill her for me.  Retrieve her real Grimoire from the house -- it _must_ be there -- and bring it to me so that I may learn what I must learn to protect myself from her.”

 

“But if she’s dead, she won’t be a problem for you any longer,” the Warden said.

 

“I’m not so certain of that.  She is not human, she is at least partly _spirit_ , but perhaps unlike any spirit I have ever heard of.  Destroying her body would most likely only slow her down.  I must have the ability to protect myself, and the only way to do that is with _her_ magic.”

 

“Do I have a schedule to keep on this?” the Warden asked.

 

“As soon as possible,” Morrigan said.

 

“We’ll go right away.”


End file.
